A question of lust
by TheNerdGlaze
Summary: [future fic, post ADWD] Sansa accidentally sees Tyrion in an intimate situation. The scene starts to haunt her.
1. Chapter 1

Sansa hurried along the corridors of the new Hand Tower. She had forgotten Arya's letter, that she wanted to show Rickon, in her rooms.  
Sometimes she had the impression that she had spent more time in that castle than anywhere in her life, but still it didn't feel like home.  
Home was a tricky concept those days.  
When the Dragon Queen had invaded Westeros, she had discovered that her Lannister husband had become her Hand, going back to him was the simplest solution.  
Thanks to his influence, Daenerys had restored the Starks in Winterfell, and named Rickon Lord Protector of the North. Not that it made much difference, in truth, since the North was still full of white walkers, and nobody would have been so insane as to actually live in Winterfell.  
They were safe in the South, her and Rickon, while Jon fought the living dead in the North, with the help of one of the Queen's dragons, and Arya had only briefly visited her in King's Landing, to leave again for the Summer Islands. As to Bran, Rickon was sure he was alive, but nobody had seen any of him since years before.  
Tyrion Lannister had claimed and obtained Casterly Rock, which was close to the fighting zone. He went there from time to time, to make sure the gold was kept being dug from his mines. As Hand of the Queen, though, he lived in King's Landing, and that was where she had found him.  
He was different since the last time she had seen him: uglier, if possible, more scarred, with missing teeth, even. But there was also something else. He still waddled when he walked, but there was something about the way he carried himself that she didn't recognise. Confidence, perhaps?  
She wasn't sure.  
She remember the hesitant, eager way in which he used to look at her, as if he was expecting her to say or do something.  
Now he didn't look at her like a starving child anymore, and he didn't seem to expect anything in particular from her.  
She went back to him not for love, nor for affection. In truth, she went back to Tyrion because she was so very tired: tired to think about betrothals and plots, about worrying about who her next suitor might be or what he might be (a monster like Joffrey, or a creep like Petyr?), tired about trying to figure out what the future might hold for her.  
Tyrion wasn't the man of her dreams, but at least she knew what to expect with him. Besides, she wasn't sure there was any man in her dreams lately. She had grown tired of love songs too. She preferred the silence of the Godswood or of the woods outside King's Landing lately.  
He has accepted her return with a palpable relief that left her puzzled: but later she had learned that the Queen was pressing him to find himself a suitable wife to secure some alliance to the Crown, and apparently he wasn't especially eager to repeat the marriage experience.  
In the end, it was the most comfortable solution for both of them.  
They never spoke about it, but their former arrangement of not consummating the marriage until Sansa wanted to was still in place, although she wasn't sure that he even wanted to do it anymore, given the possibility.  
He treated her with his usual ironic courtesy, but not much differently than the way he spoke to all highborn ladies, or even to the Queen.  
It was difficult to consider him an enemy or even a Lannister, after he had almost single-handedly provoked the ruin of his House. In the last years, she had grown to consider him almost a member of her family, or of what was left of it, or at least a good friend.  
The still slept in the same room, albeit in separate beds: it would have been unbecoming of the Lord Hand to have different quarters than his wife. Besides, the Red Keep was absolutely packed with lords, ladies, knights and minor lordlings, since half Westeros was threatened by the Others and they all sought the Queen's protection.  
All in all, it was much less awkward than it used to be. They had found some sort of balance.  
When Sansa entered the rooms she shared with her husband, she heard some muffled whispers and giggles coming from the bedroom. She wondered who could be there, at that time of the day.  
Usually, she would leave in the late morning, while Tyrion left much earlier.  
Her handmaidens, maybe?  
The door was slightly ajar. She silently went closer and looked inside.  
It was Tyrion, she discovered, but he wasn't alone. A woman was with him. Some lady come to ask for his advice or to plead their cause to the Queen, she thought at first.  
She was about to knock on the door to let them acknowledge her presence when she realised that something was wrong.  
First of all, they were sitting on the bed, and that was hardly the place to discuss state matters.  
And then there was something about the way the leaned close to each other, the way they smiled and touched (her hand was on her husband's knee, and then he raised a hand to brush her hair) that left her speechless.  
Tyrion whispered something in the woman's ear, and they both giggled again.  
Sansa was sure she had never seen him smiling like that to her, in that careless, relaxed way, with a hint of something mischievous in his eyes that she couldn't recognise.  
Then the woman knelt down between Tyrion's legs and unlaced his breeches. Only when she lowered her head onto him and began to move it rhythmically, she understood what was going on.  
She felt her cheeks reddening in embarrassment. That was so... improper. No, more than that, it was downright disgusting, she mused. And they're were doing it in their rooms, on their bed... well, his bed, really. Her own was close but untouched.  
Despite her feelings, she couldn't bring herself to stop watching the scene.  
He looked so... happy, she marvelled. His eyes were closed and his face, so often bitter or aloof, expressed nothing but delight. He would sometimes let out an appreciative groan or mutter something she couldn't make out.  
_I have to go. If he opened his eyes now, he would see me_, she thought. And yet...  
His hand was tangled in the woman's hair, but it didn't look like a firm grasp... more like a caress, in truth.  
Sansa's gaze lingered on the soft movements of his hand for a while longer, then saw him frown and tighten his eyes, as if in pain, and realised she had to leave.  
She stepped back as silently as she could and when she was out of the solar's door she almost ran through the corridor. When she stopped, her heart as racing in her chest as if it was about to burst out.

-Now, what house has this motto- Sansa asked -"As high as honour"-  
Rickon knitted his brows together:- Er...-  
Tommen yawned:-I know it.-  
-I know you know.- Sansa reassured him and addressed her brother again- Come on, Rickon. Mother's sister was married to the heir of this House.-  
The thought of aunt Lysa and Sweetrobin made her cringe, as always, but she wanted to help Rickon, who was biting his lip in concentration.  
At nine, the future lord of Winterfell knew little and less about being a noble.  
When Lord Seaworth had brought him to the capital, he was barely more than a savage. He didn't recognise Sansa, but kept screaming and kicking and asking for a wildling woman that he considered something akin to a mother and from whom he had been separated.  
It took Sansa weeks just to have him properly dressed and able to have supper with her and Tyrion.  
His immense direwolf, Shaggydog, was still with him, and followed him everywhere. At the moment, the wolf was napping near the window.  
Tommen's influence had helped a great deal. The boy, now four and ten, had changed but little from the chid Sansa remembered. He was still plump, golden-haired and good natured. He had been king for a couple of years, but he didn't seem to miss the role. He was technically married to Margaery Tyrell, although she lived in Highgarden. Sometimes he mentioned exchanging letters with her. Despite everything, he seemed sincerely fond of Margaery. He still loved kittens, although now he also appreciated hounds and horses. Tommen had managed to befriend Rickon in a way that Sansa couldn't, and helped to come out of his savage shell.  
In truth, the simple lessons that Sansa and the septas gave Rickon were quite obvious notions to Tommen, but his presence helped the young boy concentrate on the subject instead of balancing himself on the two rear legs of the chair, or doodling on the corner of the parchment, or simply being restless and negligent.  
But that day, it was Sansa who had trouble concentrating on what she was doing. Despite her desperate attempts to stop it, her mind kept going back to what she had just witnessed in her chambers.  
It was so repulsive. The very idea that someone would perform such an act left her grossed out.  
And the way Tyrion had responded to it... she couldn't stop thinking about the expression on his face, the way his breathing became faster, and how his head was thrown back, exposing his finely-chiseled jawline and the soft skin of his neck, revealing an unexpected beauty.  
_Beauty?_ Sansa shook her head. She had to remind herself of whom she was thinking of.  
Of course, Tyrion wasn't a beautiful man. On the contrary, he was still the ugliest man she had ever seen. Oh, she liked him, surely. She trusted him and even felt a sort of affection for him. But beautiful? No way.  
She really didn't know why seeing him like that had upset her so much.  
She felt a wave of annoyance.  
Was she supposed to feel angry about his infidelity, when she had abundantly let him know that she didn't desire him and most likely never would?  
She surely couldn't expect him to spend the rest of his life celibate. That would have been cruel. Besides, he had let her know on their very wedding night how he would have made up for the lack of love in his marriage.  
_This is why the gods made whores for imps like me._  
A part of her knew that he would have sought... companions elsewhere, and implicitly accepted it. She just never really thought about it.  
Well, now she knew. She cleared her throat. No reason to make a big deal out of it. If she'd come back to her rooms unexpectedly again, she'll make sure to knock and alert any possible visitor of her presence to prevent any awkward discovery, she decided.  
She smoothened her skirts, trying to recompose herself.  
-Sansa, what's wrong?- Tommen asked.  
-Nothing, of course.-  
-Your face is all red.- Rickon noticed.  
She pressed her palms on her cheek, feeling them burning.  
-It's very warm in here, don't you think?-  
-Not really.- Tommen answered, perplexed.  
_Thank you very much, Tommen_, she thought. She should remind him about courtesies and polite conversations sometimes.  
-Now, what we were saying? "As high as honour"...- she resumed.

She didn't see Tyrion for a couple of days, until she found him in the solar one evening, reading some scrolls, as he often did.  
In truth, late at night she had heard him coming to bed, listening to his sounds as he undressed and climbed onto the bed. He had always been a bad sleeper, so they seldom went to bed or woke up at the same time. The few times she had actually seen him in bed, he was wearing a sleeping shift.  
That night, she had suddenly recalled how he used to sleep naked in the early days of their marriage, many years before.  
She tried, unsuccessfully, to remember the details of what he looked like underneath the clothes. So much time had passed. She could only remember thinking that he was very ugly.  
_This is so stupid_, she thought. Why was she suddenly preoccupied of what Tyrion looked like naked? It was always him. He had been sleeping next to her for the past two years, and she never cared.  
That evening, Tyrion greeted her distractedly, barely lifting his gaze from the book.  
She felt that pang of annoyance again. She didn't know why, since neither of them usually went into raptures every time their paths crossed. But still.  
She tried to say something smart to catch his attention.  
-Will you be supping here, my lord?- she asked, after spending a good half minute observing his fingers drumming nervously on the table. He didn't have elegant hands: his fingers were thick and blunt... but she couldn't stop thinking about how delicate his touch looked...  
_Get yourself together, Sansa!_ she commanded herself.  
Tyrion raised an eyebrow and looked at her with a mixture of amusement and puzzlement:- Are we back to "my lord" again?-  
_Damn._  
She chuckled, suddenly shy:-No, of course. I meant Tyrion. Will you be supping here, Tyrion? Tonight, I mean. This evening. Now, in truth.-  
_I sound like Podrick Payne,_ she realised, mortified.  
He looked uncertain:-Why, yes, if that's no trouble...-  
In the meantime, Rickon and Shaggywolf stormed in, followed by Tommen. The two boys went and sit next to the hearth, deep in their conversation.  
-Obviously not! It's a pleasure to have you here. With us. To sup!- she replied, a little more enthusiastically than the situation required.  
Tyrion knitted his eyebrows together:-Sansa, is something amiss?-  
-No, my l...Tyrion.-  
-Were you planning to be alone tonight? Because I have to revise some letters and I can also go to the Council's room...-  
-No, no... please don't. I don't know why I'm so nervous. I don't feel myself these days.- she admitted.  
-Are you constipated?- Rickon asked abruptly.  
She felt her cheeks burning:-What...?-  
-Because when I didn't have a shit for a week...-  
-Rickon!- she gasped, and Tyrion chuckled.  
-When I didn't... er...-  
-"Visit the privy".- Tommen suggested.  
-When I didn't "visit the privy" for a week, I felt just like you, but then Maester Alleras gave me this potion and...- he smiled broadly -problem solved!-  
-That's a delightful anecdote Rickon, but it's very impolite to ask...- muttered Sansa.  
-It's apparently very common during the changing of the season.- Tyrion said softly -Nothing to worry about.-  
-Yes, Sansa, it happens to everyone. -Tommen chimed in -When was the last time you emptied your bowels?-  
-I am not constipated!- she exclaimed in frustration.  
The three of them laughed.  
-Excuse us, my lady- said Tyrion, still grinning- We were just making a bit of fun of your delicate sensitivity.-  
-You are a very bad influence, you know!-.  
Tyrion nodded in agreement and went back reading.  
_Perfect, just what I needed. I wanted to impress Tyrion and we end up discussing my bowel movements._ That was so unladylike!  
She shook her head. Why should she care about what Tyrion thought?  
They had dinner altogether, and for the first time she pondered about how the conversation was more interesting and fun when Tyrion was there. Even Rickon and Shaggydog seemed to feel it, because they behaved more wildly than ever, forgetting everything about their manners.  
Not that Tyrion cared, anyway: on the contrary, when Tommen started to throw raisins at Rickon, that caught them in mid-air in his open mouth, he even joined in, tossing him some nuts too.  
Actually she thought that the last thing that Rickon needed was encouragement, but they really seemed to be having a good time.  
She had managed to keep her upsetting thoughts at bay until, at the end of the meal, Tyrion started eating an apricot. There was nothing particularly strange about it. How many times had she seen him eating? Countless.  
And yet, she realized she couldn't stop staring at his lips. They looked very soft, despite the scar on his upper lip. She watched the way they parted, and touched the fruit. She wondered how they would feel on her own, or on her neck, or...  
-Do you want one?-  
Tyrion's voice interrupted her reverie.  
-Excuse me?-  
-Do you want an apricot?- he repeated -You've been looking at them for the past minutes as if they were the most desirable food in the world. I confess, I can't eat with you staring at me like that.- he said, with his usual hint of mockery in his voice.  
-Oh.- she couldn't believe she was behaving so awkwardly -No, thank you, I'm fine.-  
-Come on, just go ahead and take it. There are plenty!-  
Ignoring her protests, he put one on her plate, so she ate it.  
It was very good, she had to admit.  
-I know.- Tyrion said -Rickon, catch this!- he threw half an apricot to the boy, who caught it in mid-air and snapped at it, then uncovered his teeth to show it to them.  
Tommen and Tyrion laughed. Sansa thought she should have said it was such an impolite thing to do at the table, but she didn't have the heart to spoil all the fun.  
Rickon adored Tyrion. He thought he was the most wonderful person in King's Landing, except for Tommen. It had been so easy for him to like him and trust him.  
But of course, he hadn't been in the capital when Cersei and Joffrey were around.  
She shivered. She still didn't like thinking about them, even if they were long gone.  
Then Tyrion said he had to see the Queen for something involving the Others, as usual, and he left.  
For the first time, she wondered if that was true.  
Suddenly, a thought made her heart sink: what if he was going to see his lover?  
Yes, what? It wasn't like she cared, anyway.  
All in all, it was probably a good thing that he had whores, so she could be spared her spousal duties.  
But... what if she wasn't a whore at all? What if they were in love?  
What if he had both, lovers and whores? And why was he spending all that time with the Queen?  
She massaged her temple.  
_Stop it, Sansa._ It wasn't like suddenly all King's Landing was trying to get into Tyrion's bed.  
That was ridiculous.  
She remembered her aunt's words: _What woman would bed such a creature, but for gold?_  
Exactly, just so, she repeated to herself. Nothing to worry about.  
Not that she worried, of course! Except for... why, for her reputation, obviously.  
Yes, if the whole castle knew about her husband's extra marital affairs, that would have been improper. That was her only worry. Of course it was.  
She had to make sure that he contained all his insatiable lust.  
That night, she lied awake in her bed until she heard him coming back.  
She spied him, opening her eyes as little as possible, at the faint moonlight that crept through the shutters.  
He didn't look particularly lustful, to be honest. He was wearing a sleeping shift and was yawning. He rubbed his legs as if they were hurting, then climbed onto the bed.  
She lied there for a long time, trying to listen to his breath.

The most difficult part of the week was holding court.  
The Queen couldn't possibly spend all her time listening to the noblemen from all the Seven Kingdoms that had poured in the capital after the Others' attacks.  
So, even though most of them were in King's Landing, she had established that every Warden should hold court in a part of the palace and that every noble whose lands were in their scope should plea to them instead that to the Queen.  
Unfortunately for Sansa, this meant Rickon.  
As lord of Winterfell it was his duty to settle the disputes of the Northernmen.  
And many disputes they were, as all of them seemed to spend all of their time quarrelling about whose lands were being rescued from the White Walkers first, or how their interests were defended now that they were all in the South.  
If that wasn't enough, there was also Rickon's restlessness.  
They tried to make the court sessions as short as possible, because after a few minutes the young lord would start moving on his chair, getting distracted or assuming bad postures.  
On the first days, he would go as far as picking his nose or scratching his bottom in public.  
Sansa wanted to scream of frustration.  
Thankfully, Tyrion had taken Rickon aside and explained him that he was the leader of the pack now, and it wasn't fitting for a leader to scratch his arse in front of his pack.  
-Shaggydog scratches his arse all the time.- Rickon had stubbornly objected.  
-Yes- Tyrion had sighed- but for human packs...well, noblemen packs, as I'm quite sure that for some smallfolk it's considered very manly, doing that is a sign of weakness, and the leader can't be weak, or he will lose his leadership.-  
That had helped a lot, although every court session was still a struggle.  
In truth, it was Sansa who ended up taking all the decisions, but at least Rickon had learned to nod solemnly and say that he needed to reflect on the matter before telling them what Sansa told him to say, which seemed to be enough for the Northernmen.  
At first Sansa, too, was unsure of what she should do to settle all the infinite quarrels that were presented to her day after day. But she needed to be confident and act sure for Rickon.  
In the end she had realised that the problems started to sound more or less the same, and she started to actually feel sure of what she was doing.  
All in all, she was doing a good job. The Queen seemed to think so, as she had often praised her wiseness.  
Her favourite bannerman, bannerwoman in truth, was Lyanna Mormont, the youngest daughter or lady Maege Mormont. Her mother and her sisters were fighting in the North alongside Jon, but they had send at least a representative of their family in the South, of which Sansa was very happy.  
Lyanna reminded her of a less scary version of Arya.  
Oh, she loved her sister, and she had been overwhelmed with joy when they had reunited.  
But Arya was so different from the little girl that she remembered: now she often had a very blank, unreadable expression on her face, and would often stop to watch her with empty, scary eyes for a longtime in the middle of a conversation.  
And she wasn't interested in the slightest of restoring her position as a lady. After little more than a month in the capital, she announced that she was leaving for the Summer Islands.  
Lyanna was five and ten and, like all the Mormont women, had a bit of a wild side, but she was also very friendly and direct, especially compared to the over-polite Southern ladies. After years of trying to be like them, Sansa found that she had missed the spontaneous ways that she remembered from her childhood.  
The young she-bear definitely didn't let anyone step over her house's interests.  
She would often accompany herself with Wylla Umber, the daughter of Lord Wylis Manderly of White Arbour, who had wed the heir of House Umber a couple of years before.  
The two of them always managed to put a smile on Sansa's face. It was good to have someone she could take off her armour of courtesies with and allow herself to left the guard down.  
After the court, Sansa joined them in the garden near Maidenvault.  
-It's good to see you Sansa!- exclaimed Lyanna -How did the court session go?-  
-Very well, thank you.- Sansa said. In truth, she was exhausted. She had just listened to the Norreys and the Liddles fighting for over two hours over the ownership of a handful of houses between their valleys. -You two seem very merry today.- she said.  
Lyanna giggled:- It's so stupid, but I can't stop laughing.-  
-I'll tell her.- sayd Wylla -Do you know what Drogon said when he saw the Freys leading the attack in their shining armours?- she rolled her eyes and pulled an exasperated face -"Oh no, not tinned food again!"-  
It was so silly that Sansa couldn't help joining them in their laughter.  
They decided to go and have some refreshments in Sansa's solar. As they crossed the garden, she saw the woman that she had seen with Tyrion. Her heart skipped a beat. She was leaning on some southerner lord's arm and looking at him with admiration, as if he had just said the most charming thing ever.  
-Who is that lady?- she asked.  
Wylla followed her gaze:-Oh that? She's Dancy Waters, a famous courtesan.-  
Sansa raised an eyebrow:-A courtesan?-._ Of course, a prostitute._ So, at least, she wasn't Tyrion's lover. She didn't know if that made her feel better.  
-She's extremely popular among the noblemen- said Wylla, as they entered Sansa's quarters, then lowered her voice to a whisper:- I've heard that she is so flexible that she can perform a triple fold on herself.-  
Sansa was puzzled:-And how is that supposed to help in the... lovemaking?-  
Wylla chuckled:-I have no idea!- she confessed. -Maybe it's not something that has a practical function-.  
-Aye, maybe it's just an entertaining thing to see, you know, to put people in the mood.- said Lyanna. -Like this, look.- She took three walnuts from the table and juggled them in the air with surprising deftness, then caught them again -Ta-da!- she grinned.  
Sansa clapped:- But how can that put anyone in the mood?-.  
-I don't know!- replied Lyanna, shrugging.  
All three of them were roaring with laughter by then. But then Sansa thought about that woman's leg complicatedly wrapped around Tyrion, and suddenly the idea wasn't so funny anymore.  
She tried to push the thought away, distracting herself with Lyanna and Wylla, but there always some part of her that kept thinking about Tyrion's escapade and made her heart sink.

She was lying on her bed, naked.  
When Tyrion walked in the room, he stopped on the doorstep and looked at her with his mouth open.  
-I want you to make love to me.- she said.  
He didn't need to be told twice: suddenly he was on the bed, and he was naked too. His mouth was hungry on her own, then on her neck, and on her breasts.  
-I want you so much, Sansa.- he whispered against her ear in a voice hoarse for desire.  
-So do I, my lord husband.- she said. She couldn't wait anymore.  
She wrapped her legs around his body, urging him to push himself inside her.  
She felt his manhood hard against her, and spread her legs further. When he entered her, she felt she had to scream in pleasure...  
...and then Sansa woke up.  
She was really on her bed, but alone, as always. She was breathing heavily, and realised she was covered in sweat. It was a very warm night.  
She propped herself up against the cushions, trying to make some sense of what she had just dreamed.  
-Are you awake?- whispered Tyrion.  
_Oh no._ He was the last person he wanted to see in that moment, but she couldn't pretend to be asleep.  
-Aye...-she answered, discovering that she sounded breathless -Did I wake you up?-  
-Why yes, you were...- he sounded perplexed -... moaning.-  
_Gentle Mother, font of mercy_ she thought, burying her face in the pillow. It was beyond embarrassing.  
-Are you feeling unwell?- he asked. He stepped out of the bed and covered the short distance between their beds with his distinctive waddling step.  
In the moonlight, she found that his hair was sticking up on one side, which she briefly thought was absolutely adorable.  
She saw that he was not wearing the usual sleeping shift, but only a pair of cotton breeches. No doubt he had took it off during the night, bothered by the temperature. She could feel the heat emanating from his body, and some attractive scent, half sweet and half musky.  
She realised that his chest, his arms and what she could see of his legs were covered by blonde hair.  
_He really is a little lion,_ she thought. It made her want to touch it, to see if it really was as soft as it looked. She could still feel his caresses from her dream...  
Tyrion followed her gaze and backed off, looking uneasy.  
-I'll get you some water.- he said. He waddled back to his bed and hastily put the nightshirt back on, then poured something in a cup.- I'm afraid I only have wine, here.-  
Sansa nodded:-Wine will do, thank you.-  
She sipped the wine, which was red and strong. Yes, that was better.  
It was just a dream. _People do dream the strangest things,_ she thought.  
-Are you sure you're feeling well?- asked Tyrion, looking at her with a raised eyebrow -You look feverish.-  
He moved towards her, and lifted his hand. She thought he was going to feel her brow. Her heart beat faster. Sansa close her eyes, waiting for his warm touch... but it never came.  
When she opened her eyes again, his arm was again along his body and he looked uneasily.  
-Get some rest.- he suggested -Those Northernmen quarrels are exhausting you. Maybe you could take the morning for yourself tomorrow.-  
-Yes... I'll do that.- she said, feeling slightly disappointed and not knowing why.  
He smiled, uncertain: -Goodnight, then.-

When Sansa woke up in the morning, the sun was already up and she felt like taking Tyrion's advice, after all.  
She really could do with some time for herself. She didn't have any lessons with Rickon, meeting with the Queen or with any other noble.  
She still felt blushing in embarrassment thinking about her queer dream.  
But it wasn't the only thing she felt... she was suddenly aware of the feeling of the fabric of her sleeping shift on her body, of the heat of the covers and the clean smell of the linen.  
Her mind was still half asleep, but her body was very awake.  
She hadn't felt that way since... so many years before, when she was swooning after Loras Tyrell (Loras Tyrell, of all people!).  
She slipped a hand under her nightshirt.  
It wasn't like she was a maiden anymore. She had seen to that years before.  
Sansa had been so tired of people fussing about her maidenhead. Since she had flowered, it seemed like it was what everyone couldn't stop thinking about: first the queen, then Tywin Lannister, then Petyr, then her aunt Lysa, then Harry the Heir, then...  
She had got to the point where she wanted to puke every time someone asked about it.  
Why did all these people care so much about what was between her legs? It should have been private.  
She had then realised that it would never be her choice. Her maidenhead would have been sold like a loaf of bread at the market. That's why, when the Hound helped her escape from the Vale and Petyr, she had decided to take control of the matter.  
Afterwards, she had felt liberated. It felt like it was the first time she took a decision for herself. It was exhilarating.  
It had been completely different from what she had imagined. It didn't hurt, neither did she bleed and that had surprised her a lot (later she learned that it was very common for high born ladies who had virtually spent half their life on horseback).  
The Hound was a surprisingly gentle man: he had held her, and called her little bird with his raspy, low voice. It all happened so quickly, though. Camped in the forest, they didn't even bother to undress properly.  
All in all, it seemed to her that everyone was make a bigger deal about sex than it was necessary.  
She had cared for the Hound though. When he died for the wounds that ser Robert Strong inflicted him before being defeated, she had wept for him.  
But now she didn't want to feel nostalgic and think about him.  
Sansa had always dreamed about a knight in shining armour that would come to her rescue and sweep her off her feet. She would imagine his features: he looked very much like Loras Tyrell, but taller, stronger, and fair of hair.  
She would have married that very night, and she liked to imagine the wedding night in every detail.  
But that day, somehow nor her caresses or her fantasy managed to sort its effect.  
Almost without realising what was happened, she let another face take the knight's place, and imagined another body holding hers. Not a handsome body, she knew. Small, scarred, even misshapen maybe... but...but...  
She felt a stir in her belly, as she pictured his mismatched eyes looking at her with hunger.  
She thought about kissing him on his chest, tracing the lines of his scar at the juncture of his shoulder and arm with her lips. He would like that, she guessed. She could picture the look of rapture that would be on his face. The thought made her body fill with a pleasant warmth.  
She wondered if he would look at her with the same desire and expectation as she let her mouth gently nudge the skin of his belly, then move forward towards his breeches.  
She remembered the way he had groaned when she had spied him. Would he make the same sound, she wondered, if she kissed him right there and wrapped her lips around him and...  
Sansa sighed heavily as her body trembled in pleasure.  
As she lied on the bed, catching her breath, she realised that there was no point in denying the truth anymore.  
She was in complete and utter lust for Tyrion Lannister.


	2. Chapter 2

In the following week, Sansa tried to spend much time with her husband, with no success.  
During the day they were both busy, so it was no good. At nights, he would often stay with the small Council until late, or come to their quarters only briefly to eat and rush out still chewing the last mouthful of mutton, or forget to come at all.  
She should have been used to that, and until not long time ago she was. In truth, she would often do the same. But now it had started to become an issue.  
And...he didn't even look at her!  
It was so frustrating.  
Rationally she understood that she couldn't expect him to just run across the room and sweep her off her feet every time she smiled at him: she had spent the great majority of their time together ensuring that he understood that she didn't want to have anything to do with him, at least from a physical point of view, and now that he was behaving exactly as she had wanted him to...but still.  
She felt discouraged.  
He even made sure to never, ever touch her, she had found out with mortification.  
Yes, they occasionally held hands when they were in public and needed to convey an image of harmony and union (other ladies leaned on their husbands's arm, but that would have been impractical for them, due to the height difference), but he would let go on the moment when it was not strictly necessary anymore.  
When he passed her an object, he would put it on the table instead of handing it to her, or, if he had no choice, he made sure that their fingers never brushed together.  
And the worst part was that she could tell that he didn't even think about it. It was second nature to him, probably a habit developed after months and possibly years of her flinching at his touch.  
The very thought made her heart sink. She'd rather not think about it.  
And then... her manners!  
It was like she suddenly had become a little girl again, because all her confidence and her armour of courtesies seem to crumble whenever she gazed into his mismatched eyes.  
They were so beautiful. How come she had never realised before?  
Whenever he made one of his signature japes, the green one stayed cold and sarcastic, while the black was filled with warmth and humour. It made her feel something in her belly melt.  
And he was so smart. In truth, she didn't manage to fully appreciate his wits lately, because in his presence she spent most of the time in a daze.  
It made having a proper conversation with him even more difficult.  
One day, at breakfast, Rickon was stirring wearyingly into his milk and oat bowl.  
Beside him, Tommen was trying to convince him to finish his breakfast.  
The boy was so patient, Sansa reflected. Considering that his parents were the Kingslayer and Cersei Lannister, she wondered from whom he could have inherited his nurturing side.  
From behind the table, Shaggydog let out a noisy fart.  
-Ugh- grimaced Sansa, while the boys laughed –Rickon, have you been giving him milk again?-  
Rickon pulled a guilty face:-He just wanted to have breakfast with us.- he explained.  
-Milk creates air in the belly… that's why he shouldn't drink it.-  
-You're drinking milk right now.- protested Rickon.  
She sighed: -I'm a human.-  
In that moment, Tyrion entered the room in a hurry. He was wearing elegant court clothes, and his hair was brushed back on his clean-shaven face.  
-Oh Tyrion- Sansa blurted out before she could stop herself –You look so lovely today!-.  
He looked at her as if she had gone mad. Tommen and Rickon exchanged a puzzled look.  
-Yeah- said Tommen, uncertain but full of good will –I like your… pin.-  
At least someone had learned how to behave, Sansa thought, blushing furiously.  
-Er… thank you, both of you.- Tyrion answered, still disconcerted –That's very courteous.-  
-I think you look just like every day- Rickon declared.  
-That's because you wouldn't recognise a courtesy if it bit you on the arse.- he grinned as he sat next to the boy. Rickon nudged him jokingly in the ribs.  
Tyrion grabbed bacon, brown bread and a mug of ale.  
-How fare you Starks and Baratheon today?-  
Sansa opened her mouth to comment the beauty of the day, but Rickon preceded her:- Sansa has got a belly full of air because she drinks milk.-  
-That's not what I said!- she said. Screamed, more like.  
Tyrion chuckled, although to his credit she had to say that he stopped almost immediately when he saw the look on her face.  
–I was talking about Shaggydog!- she added desperately.  
-Milk creates air in the belly.- Rickon went on.  
-It can do that, it's true.- Tyrion nodded, appearing genuinely interested.  
-And Sansa has drank a whole mug of it, so she's probably going to fart a lot today.- the boy added, pointing at her mug.  
Tommen snorted so heavily that milk went out of his nose, as Sansa felt her cheeks turning crimson.  
_I'm going to kill him_, she thought.  
-Rickon!- she exclaimed –I don't…fart!- she couldn't find a polite euphemism, so she lowered her voice to say it.  
-You do!-  
-No, I don't!- she insisted.  
Her brother raised an eyebrow:-This is not possible, Sansa – he said, in a didactical tone –Everybody breaks air from time to time. Are you the only person in the world that never does it?-  
-I… it's not…- she gasped, lost for words.  
She noticed that Tyrion kept chewing on his breakfast, but was trying really hard not to laugh. His face was all red.  
-If you would excuse me, my lady.- he said, when he finished the bacon –I have to ask…something….to my squire.-  
As soon as he had waddled off the room, Sansa started beating Rickon with her spoon.  
-I hate you!- she yelled- You're the worst sibling ever! You're worse than Arya!-  
-You're in love with Tyrion!- Rickon teased her, in a childish singsong voice, between one hit and the other –"Tyrion and Sansa under the weirwood tree…" Ouch!-  
-Shut up! You're ruining everything!-  
Tommen had to take them apart:- Stop it, both of you!-.  
Sansa fixed her hair behind her ear and smoothened her skirts, realising how unladylike she must look, but still kept glancing murderously at Rickon.  
-And there's no point in making fun of Sansa and Uncle Tyrion if they love each other.- continued Tommen –Of course they do. They're married, remember?-  
Rickon locked his eyebrows together, then opened his mouth to say something and closed it a couple of times, as if there was something wrong with this reasoning but couldn't figure out exactly what.  
When Tyrion came back, he announced that he was going to assist the Queen at court that day.  
-I'll come with you.- decided Sansa, on an impulse.  
Behind Tyrion's back, Rickon pretended to smooch his mug. She ignored him.  
As they walked down the stairs of the Tower of the Hand she tried to think of something to say to him.  
-Will you be holding court today?- she said at last.  
-No - Tyrion answered –The Queen will do that. I'll just sit around like a good gargoyle, to scare the prowlers away.-  
She couldn't think of a smart thing to say. She almost complimented his looks again, but she remembered she had already done it.  
As he slowly walked towards the Great Hall, she observed him, noticing for the first time how different he was from the early days of their marriage.  
Certainly he wasn't any taller nor had his nose grown back, but the gash wasn't raw and scabbed anymore. His scar had cicatrized into a thick white line that protruded slightly on his face. He had got rid of that unsightly yellow and black beard, and also his silver-blonde hair was much shorter.  
It made his face look sterner, but it also gave an impression of authority.  
_He's not hiding anymore_, she thought.  
Also, he had stopped wearing the over-lavish clothes that the Lannisters seemed to prefer, crimson velvet and brocade, padded shoulders and puffed sleeves covered in gold and jewels, that always made him appear bundled up.  
Now he preferred simpler, neatly cut garments. That day he was wearing a dark blue doublet that favoured his light complexion and brought out the colour of his green eye; his only ornament was a small silver pin representing a three-headed dragon, which signified that, as Hand, he was acting at the orders of the Queen.  
She had never seen him wearing the traditional golden Hand chain after the war. Sansa thought that perhaps it had disappeared during the fighting.  
His new clothes were clearly conceived to follow the shape of his body instead of trying to hide it. In her opinion, they suited him much better.  
These new garbs had also another virtue, she couldn't help noticing... the dark breeches were expertly tailored on his body, no doubt, because they hung beautifully on his butt.  
It made her blush just to think of it, she mused, putting a hand over her mouth to stop the girlish giggle that threatened to come out of her mouth.  
But now that she had noticed, she found herself staring at it more than once as they walked.  
Yes, his legs were bowed and made him sway when he walked... but his butt was an entirely different matter.  
It really had a beautiful shape, she reflected. It was small, but round. Like an apple.  
It also looked so... _firm_. She wondered what it would feel like to run her hand over it... she bet it was soft but muscular. It would have been so good to grab it and dig her fingers into its flesh when he was on top of her and pull him deeper...  
-Sansa?-  
_Oh no, I did it again!_  
She had got lost in her fantasies once more.  
-Yes?- she asked as innocently as she could.  
-What's wrong? Do I have something on my back...?- Tyrion asked perplexed, trying to turn his head to peer over his shoulder.  
-Oh just something... here.- she said, picking an imaginary hair on his doublet -Yes. Gone.- she smiled nervously.  
Tyrion looked at her with suspicion:-You are exceedingly twitchy lately.- he said.  
-I am just... overcome with joy to come with you to court.- she explained.  
It was true, in a way. It was so good to be next to him.  
Tyrion moved closer to her:- My lady, if there's something that concerns you, please, don't hesitate to confide in me. You don't need to keep your worries to yourself. It's very important to me that we are true to each other, like the best of friends.- he gave a sympathetic smile and a little shrug -We are married, after all.-  
She sighed. Could she tell him about her attraction for him? Would he be happy, or reject her?  
Sansa resolved to speak:- Why yes, there is something that troubles me of lately. Well, in truth... it's a delicate matter, but...-  
He smiled reassuringly:-I'll be as tactful as I can. Now tell me, Sansa...-  
She took a deep breath. Maybe he had already understood. Maybe he felt the same way...  
-...is it your bowels that afflict you?-  
Her face fell.  
-Excuse me?-  
-Oh, there's no need to be embarrassed!- said Tyrion -It's absolutely normal!-  
-My bowels are perfectly fine, thank you.- she said stiffly.  
Tyrion sighed:-Sansa, even the most graceful ladies sometimes experience... how can I say... interruptions in their regular activities...-  
-I am not constipated!- she yelled.  
A noble lady turned towards them in surprise, and Sansa forced a polite smile on her face as if Tyrion had just said something very amusing, until she walked away.  
-I'm not constipated.- she repeated, in a much lower voice -Stop saying that. That was just Rickon being... well, being Rickon. I am in perfect health.-  
-I apologise, my lady... I just assumed...-  
-Let us not make the Queen wait.- Sansa said to abandon the subject, and entered the Great Hall.  
The room was crowded with noblemen, knights, the Essosi Queen's guards called Unsullied, and even common people from the folk that came to address their plead to the Queen.  
Joffrey had only done it a handful of times (and the Realm thanked the Gods for that, since he had been unjust and cruel in his decisions as he had been in all his life), and she knew that no one ever bothered to make Tommen do it at all, but Queen Daenerys always listened to her subjects herself, at least those who fell under her direct jurisdiction and took personal care of all the questions regarding the relations with the countries outside the Seven Kingdoms.  
Queen Daenerys was very young, about her age, but looked much older. It wasn't her face, which was smooth like a child's (it wasn't a coincidence that she was considered the most beautiful woman in the world), but the solemn way in which she carried herself and in which she uttered every word.  
Her dark purple eyes stared into you as if they could read into your very soul.  
She was intimidated by her at first, but despite her aloof appearance, she soon discovered that Daenerys was much more reasonable and apt to hear other people's opinion that most of the royals Sansa had ever met.  
Sansa stayed in the crowd, while Tyrion went to take his place next to the Queen, at the right hand side of the Iron Throne.  
The Queen gestured to her guards to let the first petitioner speak.  
As the court session went on, Sansa observed how the Queen and Tyrion looked so alarmingly close.  
She would often turn towards him to ask for his advice, and they would talk in low voices, their heads close together. She sometimes put a hand on his arm to catch his attention; and a couple of times she saw the Queen letting a small, private smile escape at his words.  
_They're lovers!_ She thought, aghast.  
Of course... this explained everything!  
Why he spent so much time away from their quarters, all the evenings in which he came to bed late, why he never sought her attentions.  
Of course he doesn't need me, he is bedding the most beautiful woman in the world, no less, she thought bitterly, crossing the arms on her chest.  
She felt her stomach turn at the very thought of what they could be doing together during all the nights in which he returned to their quarters late and tired.  
She wasn't that comely anyway, she thought. Daenerys was at least half a foot shorter that she was. But then, this might even be better from Tyrion's point of view. _Damn._  
There was just a small element that didn't fit in this theory: if he was engaged in that steamy affair with the sovereign, why was he... being serviced by that courtesan, the day she saw him?  
She reflected on it.  
There could be only an explanation: clearly his lust couldn't be satiated by just one woman.  
What a despicable creature he was, she thought scandalised.  
She knew that he was very popular at court. He surely had no difficulties in seducing any woman.  
Maybe he had even lied with most of the women in the room!  
She looked at the despicable creature who, at the moment, was studying some letters the Qarth envoy had just brought, and was scratching his head with the back of a pen in concentration.  
She had to admit that it seemed like extra-marital affairs were the last thing on his mind.  
She was so confused: only a short time before, she was convinced that no woman would ever sleep with him but for the love of coin, and now she was paranoid, seeing a potential lover in every woman that talked to him.  
Sansa left the Great Hall and took a walk in the yard to clear her mind.  
_I want him_, she realised._ I want him to talk to me with the same confidence he talks to the Queen, to jest with me, to touch me, to tell me about his worries and his joys. And I want him to look at me only._  
A vague idea of a plan started to form in her mind: she had to seduce him.

That seduction idea left Sansa uncertain on many aspects.  
She knew she had often aroused desire and infatuation in men, but she never had to do anything in particular.  
Just... well, sort of staying there and looking good. Say something courteous, on occasion.  
But of course, this couldn't work with Tyrion, because it wasn't much different from what she did everyday, and obviously it wasn't working.  
The problem was, Sansa had no idea from where to start.  
She had always assumed that men would fall for her without much effort on her part.  
Much to her embarrassment, she realised she needed advice.  
If her mother was still alive, she might have gone to her.  
As to Arya… no, she couldn't possibly write to Arya about that.  
She wished Myranda Royce was there. She surely would know what to do.  
For the lack of better alternatives, she resorted to asking advice to Lyanna and Wylla.  
She would have preferred Lyanna, but she was unwed while Wylla was, so she doubted she could be much of help.  
It wasn't wise to discuss these… personal matters with bannermen, she was aware of that.  
These kind of problems should be kept within the family… but what family did she have now? Surely she couldn't ask Rickon.  
She invited them to lunch in her rooms, and then exposed them the matter.  
They stared at her with their jaws dropped.  
-So you two never…?- Lyanna asked.  
-No.- Sansa admitted.  
-Because you didn't want to.-  
-No.-  
-And now you want, and you don't know how to let him know?-  
-This is more or less the situation, yes.- she confirmed.  
-What changed?-  
Sansa shook her head:- I don't know!-  
Wylla looked perplexed:-Do you really think he has an affair with the Queen?-  
-There's no other explanation! They are always together, she doesn't take a step without consulting him.-  
-That's kind of his job though, he's her Hand.- objected Lyanna in a reasonable tone.  
Wylla didn't seem convinced either:-Queen Daenerys, as you surely know, swore she would never marry for political interests again, but she has no hesitancy in keeping an official paramour.- she was talking about Daario Naharis, the Tyroshy sellsword Captain that had followed the Queen to Westeros.  
-She's very transparent about her lovers. She doesn't strike as the kind of woman who would have an affair in secret.-  
Sansa sighed:-I don't know... I can't think straight anymore.-  
Lyanna furrowed her brow:-Why don't you just tell him?-  
_Because I don't have the courage_, Sansa thought.  
Wylla shook her head:-Absolutely not! By any means, don't do that.-  
Sansa was baffled by this vehement answer:- Why not?-  
Wylla sighed:-Because that's not the way. Men have to feel like hunters. They will go after what they think they can't have. Everyone knows.-  
-Oh.-  
That made sense. When she didn't care for Tyrion, he had desired her after all.  
-So you have to make sure that he doesn't realise that you want him. Be careful not to give it away. You have to be absolutely unreadable, don't let him understand that you swoon after him.-  
-Yes!- Sansa agreed, relieved –I'll try!- a thought struck her –Wait a moment, how would that be different from before, when I really didn't want him?-  
Wylla thought about it.  
-This could be a problem.- she admitted.  
Sansa took a deep breath and put aside the modesty that suggested her to be silent and asked:-What do you do, when you want your husband do…er… join you? In your marriage bed?-  
She couldn't think of a more polite way to say it.  
Wylla just smiled knowingly:-Oh, he's a Umber.- she said, as if this explained everything.  
A puzzled silence followed.  
-So what?- asked Lyanna at last.  
She sighed:-Well, you know. Hard people, the Umbers. Very patriotic.-  
Sansa and Lyanna exchanged an uncomprehending glance.  
-I usually do this: I wait for him to come home, then I creep behind his back and hit him on the head with a vase…-  
-You hit him on the head?!- gasped Sansa, in shock –But that's terrible!-  
-Oh no, it's very fun!- Wylla assured happily –Then I say "I'm the Queen beyond the Wall and I'm taking over your lands!" and he says "Over my dead body! King in the North!" and then…-  
-Thank you, Wylla.- Sansa interrupted her –I'm not sure I want to know.-  
She shuddered and tried to shake the image away.  
Sansa sighed, discouraged: this didn't help her at all. She doubted that Tyrion would interpret a blow on the head as a mating signal.  
-I tell you what- said Lyanna –It's like for bears. My mother told me everything about it.-  
-Really?- asked Sansa, dreading what the analogy could be.  
-You know what bear couples do when the right season comes? They go away from the other bears and they walk for miles and miles to find a place where to be alone. That's what you should do too, I think… spend time together, get to know each other. Like bears.- she explained.  
That was actually a good piece of advice, she marvelled.  
-How would a she-bear explain to a bear that she always pushed away that now she can't stop thinking about him?-  
Lyanna shrugged:- There is nothing to explain. It's the change of the season.-

Luring her bear away from the others was more difficult than it looked.  
She asked Tommen, who was, after all, the person that knew Tyrion best, what subjects he could he interested in talking.  
It was awkward that they had been married for more than six years, and she never bothered to learn more about her husband. True, they had been separated for four years... but still.  
-Oh, many things- Tommen answered -Dragons. And books. And books about dragons. About history too, he knows every anecdote about every Targaryen king. And he often talks about all the strange places he has visited.-  
It was a start.  
One night Sansa decided to wait for Tyrion awake. It was, after all, the only time of the day in which she was sure she would see him.  
She put on her best sleeping shift (a tunic in satin and Myrish lace that she had received years before as a present from some noble family and never even bothered to unwrap), and strategically chose a random book about dragons from Tyrion's library.  
She put a flask of Arbor red on the sideboard.  
When he'd come to bed, she'd offer him a glass of wine and he'd see the book and they would start talking. He'd be so besotted with her beauty that he'd have to fall in love with her. Yes, that had to work.  
As he waited for him, she started reading the book, to have something to say about it.  
Gods, it was boring, she couldn't help thinking.  
She had chosen a very old tome in High Valyrian, a chronicle of the reign of some Aegon, the Second or the Third.  
The parts about dragons were quite interesting, she had to admit, but they were drowned in pages and pages about family lineages, crops, troops and provisions. Soon she was dozing off.  
She fought to keep her eyes open... maybe she could close them, just for a minute.  
The next thing she heard was the door closing and Tyrion walking in.  
-Oh...er...Tyrion... it's good to see you.- she said, trying to recompose herself.  
-I'm sorry I woke you up.- he whispered -go back to sleep, don't mind me.-  
-No, no, I'm not sleeping- she protested- I'm... reading.-  
Tyrion raised an eyebrow:-With no light?-  
She realised that the taper had died, probably hours before.  
There was still some light from the hearth, anyway... if she concentrated really hard, she could read the words, so it was perfectly believable.  
-Would you like a glass of wine?- she offered.  
Tyrion yawned:-No, thank you. I think I'll go to bed. To... "read".- he said.  
No, no! If he didn't take the wine the whole plan would crumble!  
-But it's a really good wine!- she insisted.  
-I'm sure it's delicious. Maybe another time.-  
He started taking off his jerkin. He really wanted to go to sleep, it seemed.  
_Come on, Sansa, say something!_  
-I was reading this book. Your book. From your library. About dragons. Dragons are very fascinating.- she blurted out at once.  
-Yes... they are.- he sounded puzzled.  
Sansa took a deep breath: -And I thought, maybe you could suggest me something else to read... to learn more about them. The dragons. That are very fascinating.-  
-Let me see.- he said, moving closer to her.  
He distractedly rolled up the sleeves of his tunic.  
Heavens, his arms were attractive. They looked so strong and _hairy_...  
-This is a very old tome- he explained, examining the book -Not very accurate, in truth. If you want to know more about dragons I'd suggest you to take a look at the two living specimens that live in the great stables, it's probably the easiest way.-  
Oh yes, _those_. Drogon and Rhaegal. Viserion, the white one, was in the North with Jon.  
They were magnificent, of course. But they did have the annoying habit of burning everything around them, and Sansa was not especially keen having his hair or clothes burnt to ashes. But still.  
-Maybe you could accompany me sometime.- she suggested.  
Tyrion thought about it: -You know what, you should go to the Stables and ask for an Unsullied called Hero. He loves them, especially Drogon. He will be happy to escort you and explain you everything you want to know. That would make his day.-  
Sansa did all she could not to roll her eyes.  
Gods be good, for all that he was the smartest man in the realm, he could be quite thick.  
She tried to come up with some excuse.  
-Oh, I wouldn't want to deprive the Queen of one of her personal guards. You know how it is for a royals... plots everywhere...-  
Tyrion furrowed his brow:-What do you mean?-  
-I'm just saying that... well, I think the Queen should keep his guards as close as possible at any time, that's all.- she shrugged.  
He looked very concerned:-Are you aware of some plot against the Queen?- he asked, taking her hand in his.  
_He's touching my hand, he's touching my hand, he's talking to me and touching my hand!_  
-Er... maybe...I've heard... something, around.-  
-From whom?- he urged.  
-From... Lord Poole, I think.- she answered, inventing wildly- He heard it... from some...squire.-  
_No, no_! What was she saying? There was no plot to kill Daenerys!  
-This is very serious. I had no idea.- he reflected.- I should probably tell the Queensguard to increase the number of guards around them...- he added, more to himself than to Sansa -And probably...yes, double turns to watch the castle walls...-.  
He walked to his bed and put his jerkin back on.  
-Are you going somewhere?-  
-I'm sorry, my lady.- he apologised -But this plot could be very dangerous and we are underprepared. I need to take care of this matter now.-  
And he hastily waddled out of the room.  
_Now, this whole seduction thing is proving more difficult than I thought._

After a long day of fighting between the Karstarks and the Magnar of Thenn, Sansa decided she could really do with a long, hot bath.  
She told her handmaiden to bring the hot water to her rooms and undressed, leaving only her smallclothes, a white cotton tunic, on. When she stepped in the bath room, she found that the wooden tub was already filled with water and with an occupant.  
-Pod?- Tyrion called when he heard the steps behind him.  
-No, it's me.- she said, walking closer to the tub.  
He was sitting in the water, which was so hot that she could see faint lines of vapour rising in the air.  
There was a layer of soap and foam on the surface of the water, so it wasn't an improper situation... but how could it be improper anyway, they were married!  
-Ah.- Tyrion moved uneasily in the tub -sorry, did I steal your place?-  
She shrugged:- I called for a bath, but I can wait.-  
She knew she should go... she was supposed to... but she couldn't bring herself to.  
Tyrion looked at her:-I'm almost finished anyway.-  
She could tell it wasn't true: the water was steaming hot and his hair was still dry, which meant that he had probably just stepped in.  
-Take your time. I can wait.- she repeated. _I should really go and leave him alone._  
Tyrion rubbed his neck distractedly. She had an idea.  
-Is your neck sore?- she asked.  
Tyrion nodded:-Ah, yes, as usual. I spend too much time hunched to read.- he explain.  
She sat down near the tub, behind his shoulders:-Here, let me do it for you.- she offered, and started to rub his shoulders.  
Tyrion wriggled nervously:-That's kind of you, but there's really no need...-  
-Shut up, Tyrion.- she commanded, and he resolved to silence.  
His muscles were so tense at first that they felt hard as stones, but as she gently massaged his shoulders, she felt them relaxing. She had learned to do that for her cousin Sweetrobin. Sometimes it was the only thing that helped him calm down and sleep.  
-This is actually really nice.- he said, slightly surprised, after a while. His eyes were closed.  
She smiled.  
Soon his head was lolling forward, and she proceeded to rub the base of his neck.  
There were scars on his back that looked like whipping marks. She half wanted to ask him how he got them, but at the same time she didn't want to spoil the moment.  
It was so intoxicating to finally be able to touch him so openly.  
She saw that on his back and on his shoulders there were little moles here and there. She thought they were very pretty.  
And his scent... Now that she was so close she could smell it clearly. It came from his skin and especially from his hair. It was so good, clean, sweet but with a wild note underneath that made her feel a stir in her lower belly.  
She wanted nothing more than bury her face in the nape of his neck and drink fully in it.  
Now that he was so close she could see that a two-day stubble had grown on his cheeks, giving him a scruffy look.  
Sansa started to massage his neck, insisting on the points where she could still feel tension.  
His skin was so fair that even her gentle touch left red marks. She wondered how would it feel to kiss him on the neck... She would be delicate at first, barely brushing her lips against his soft skin.  
She lightly ran her fingers on the exact point that she wanted to kiss. Then she would press her lips harder, tracing her way to his jaw, and then next to his ears... she would nibble at them, feeling his hair scraping against her nose.  
She realised that at the very thought her nipples had hardened under her tunic.  
Tyrion was so relaxed that his muscles were like clay under her hands.  
She eased him gently against her shoulder, pressing her breasts against his back.  
She had to suppress a moan at the contact, because the water had soaked the fabric and it felt almost like touching him directly.  
Sansa massaged delicately his scalp, starting from the back oh his head and carrying on towards the sides. Tyrion let out a soft sigh.  
_He likes it_, she realised. Maybe it wasn't as intense as what that woman was doing to him, but the look on his face was so similar...  
_I'll kiss him now_, Sansa decided. Who cared about strategy and hunters and not showing interest first. He was so close that she just needed to lean forward and their lips would be brushing together.  
She let her hand move on his chest, touching his wet hair (_My little lion_...), and she closed her eyes, ready to kiss him.. when Tyrion's hand hastily grabbed hers.  
-Sansa, stop.- he said. His voice sounded hoarse.  
It felt like a cold shower. She opened her eyes.  
-It was very...very...lovely. Very therapeutical. Really kind of you.- he added, plunging deeper in the tub until the water reached his chin -The water is getting cold, so I better finish the washing, so then I can leave the tub for you.-  
He sounded very embarrassed, gathering the brush, the soap and the sponge closer, and she couldn't understand why.  
-Thank you, really. I already feel much better.- he added.  
_He realised what I wanted to do and was horrified_, she thought.  
She wanted to cry. She blabbered something to take leave and stormed off.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Final chapter!_** **_I'm so grateful to everyone who left comments! Thanks so much!_**

_He doesn't want me. He never will.  
_It was all that Sansa could think of.  
After Tyrion's rejection (she didn't go as far as to cause a proper rejection, but she still saw it as such), she could only do what she could to avoid her husband.

For a cruel jape of fate, now that she didn't want to see him, it seemed like she was continuously bumping into him.  
Suddenly, for some merciless coincidence, he had time to sup with her, Rickon and Tommen almost everyday.  
He was always his usual ironic, self-deprecating, witty self, as if the bath tub incident never happened.  
Sometimes she could feel his mismatched gaze over her, but always avoided to return it.  
Sansa could barely look him in the eye. It was too awkward.  
She tried to eat as fast as she could, and she retired to the bedroom as soon as possible.  
And yet, when he was with them, she couldn't help noticing how helpful he was with Rickon, how his presence seemed to instantly light up the atmosphere in the room (at least for Tommen and her brother, if not for her).  
Even spending time with Lyanna and Wylla couldn't lift her mood.

_He could have been mine.  
_It was agony to think about it, but she couldn't stop.  
It was so unfair. She wondered when his feelings for her had changed.  
Probably when he didn't have his father breathing on his neck ordering him to consummate the marriage anymore, she decided.  
He never wanted to marry her in the first place, after all. He had told her so the very day of their wedding.

She wondered how things would have been if she had insisted to consummate their union on their wedding night.  
It was an absurd thought, she knew. She was barely more than a child back then, there was no way he could have been happy to bed him (or anyone else, for that matter).  
But she couldn't stop fantasizing about it. How would it feel to wake up everyday in his embrace. To kiss him goodnight. How it would be if he had got her with child. She could almost picture him, a baby boy with her red hair and his black and green eyes.  
Getting lost in these fantasies was soothing, but it made the return to reality even harsher.

Days passed, and her misery deepened more and more.

The hall in which they held court was completely empty.  
Sansa was very surprised. Rickon looked around in amazement.  
-Does this mean I can go home now?- he asked hopefully.  
-I don't know...- she replied.  
It was very unusual. On court days, the hall was usually packed with people.  
-Let's wait for a while.- she decided.

After almost a hour, a very disgruntled group of bannermen entered the room, escorted by a troop of Unsullied. Sansa recognized Grey Worm, the captain of the Queen's guard.  
The Northerners looked very upset and kept complaining in high voices with each other.  
-What happened?- asked Sansa.  
-New security measures.- Grey Worm replied. He looked quite tired, she noticed, and his foreign accent was more audible than ever -We must interrogate everyone to find out if they're involved with anything suspicious.-  
_Oh no!_ she thought. He was certainly talking about the imaginary plot that she had mentioned to Tyrion.  
-I see. But I will see to it from now on.- she asked, uneasy -I think I can handle the matter in an effective way.-  
Grey Worm shook his head:- It's too dangerous. We must control the possession of weapons and...-  
-They searched all my clothes!- protested the old Lord Ryswell- They even made me undress!-  
Grey Worm was impassible:-We found some very suspicious items.-  
An Unsullied handed him a phial. -This could be poison.- he announced.  
-That's the medicine for my prostate!- Lord Ryswell objected, embittered.

Sansa grabbed Grey Worm's arm and led him farther from the crowd.  
-Is this really necessary? I'm sure I can...er... lead the investigations and let you know if I discover something.- she said.  
Grey Worm looked uncertain:- These are the Lord Hand's orders.-  
-I'll talk to Lord Tyrion.-she assured -Now can you please leave these people alone so we can settle the disputes of the North?-  
He thought about it:- I think I can leaver everyone but that lady.-  
-Which lady?- Sansa inquired.

Grey Worm waved towards one of the guards, and one of them led on Lyanna Mormont, holding her by the arm.  
She was trying, unsuccessfully, to wriggle out of the soldier's grasp.  
-Leave me alone, you ball-less brute!- she yelled.  
_Oh no.  
_-What is the meaning of this? What has she done?- asked Sansa.  
-She was found in possess of all these objects.- Grey Worm replied. At his words, the other Unsullied put on a table a bundle that revealed several daggers, a small knife, and a stiletto in its case.  
-There must be a misunderstanding.- Sansa said -I'm sure Lady Mormont wasn't carrying all those weapons...-  
-Of course I was!- Lyanna interrupted her  
-Why?!- Sansa exclaimed, exasperated.  
Lyanna shrugged: -My mother always told me to be prepared for everything.-  
-We are at court, among guests!-  
Her gaze sharpened:-That's what they said at Lord Edmure's wedding, too.-  
Sansa was starting to feel the signs of an impending headache.  
-Grey Worm, I pray you- she eventually said- release Lady Mormont this time.- she faced the young northern lady -And you, please refrain from carrying along an entire arsenal when you come to court!-  
-But the Lord Hand...- Grey Worm objected.  
-I'll talk to him. I'll go now.- Sansa decided.

Grey Worm told her that Tyrion was in the Queen's solar, and she marched there.  
She found her husband and Daenerys Targaryen sitting at a desk, observing a map.  
Their heads were close together and they looked very concentrated.  
Their hands were resting on the table, barely an inch from one another.  
The sight caused her a pang of jealousy.

-Excuse me, Your Grace.- she said coldly -I'm here to talk to Lord Tyrion.-  
The Queen looked up at her in surprise:- Is it very urgent?- she asked.  
She seemed vaguely upset.  
What right did she have to be upset? she thought. Tyrion was still _her_ husband.  
-I'm afraid so, Your Grace.-  
-I'll be right back.- Tyrion assured.  
Daenerys curtly nodded, and he moved out of the room with Sansa.  
Trying to contain her annoyance for the Queen's behaviour, she quickly explained him what had happened with the Unsullied.  
-I told them to make inquiries discretely!- he snorted. -Don't worry, Sansa, I'll take care of that. They won't bother Rickon's court again.-  
-Thank you.-

Once her anger had cooled down, she felt suddenly awkward again.  
Seeing him with the Queen (_his lover!_) reminded her once more of how distant he was from her.  
Now she just wanted to run away.  
-I bid you a good morrow.- she mumbled and turned to go.  
-Sansa... wait, I pray.- Tyrion stopped her.  
He looked uneasy.  
-Is there something amiss? Have I...- she saw him groping for words -...displeased you, somehow?-  
_Tyrion, only your lack of love for me displeases me.  
_It would have been so easy to tell him everything now. But what was the point?  
He didn't care for her attentions, as he had demonstrated in their bath room.  
It was more dignified, more ladylike, not to say anything, she thought.

In the meantime, Tyrion was still waiting for an answer.  
-Of course not, my lord.- she answered at last, staring at the floor.  
He looked at her for one long moment.  
-I understand.- he said bitterly- A good morrow to you.- he said, turning back and waddling towards the Queen's solar.  
-This reminds me- she heard her saying -Have you taken a decision about...?-  
-Aye- Tyrion cut in - I have.-  
He entered the room, and closed the door behind him.

It seemed like her misery was contagious.  
Some days later, even Tommen glum and irritable, so different from his usual amiable self.  
She was having a hard time concentrating on what she was explaining to Rickon.

-I like the Martell's words.- Rickon said at some point - "Unbowed, unbent, unbroken". They sound fierce.-  
-They're a very proud house.- Sansa agreed.  
-I like the Tyrell's words.- Tommen grumbled.  
Rickon laughed:- They sound like such wimps! Who wants to "grow strong"?-  
-I do.- Tommen objected. -I want to live in Highgarden and raise dog pups like Margaery's brother used to do when he was alive. I want to go to a nice place with animals and gardens and gentle people. Margaery said I could.-  
He sounded on the verge of tears.  
-You will.- Sansa assured -When you'll be sixteen, you and Margaery...-  
-That's not what Uncle Tyrion said.- he mumbled.  
-What did he say?-  
-He said I must go to Casterly Rock, eventually.-

She didn't know what Tyrion had in mind for Tommen, but he probably planned to put people he trusted in the key locations of the realm.  
-I don't like Casterly Rock. You can't even keep dogs there. There are only rocks and cliffs. They would break their legs and die.- Tommen complained.  
-You could raise goats.- Rickon offered -Goats climb on rocks.-  
-Yes, what a lovely idea!- Sansa said encouragingly -You could keep a pet goat.-  
-It's not the same thing.- muttered Tommen.  
-No, but also goats are very cute.- Sansa added -What do you think could a nice name for a goat?-  
-Maybe.. Lady Escalade?- Tommen tried reluctantly.  
Sansa smiled:- That's a very nice name.-  
-Yeah- Rickon agreed – and when she'll be too old to climb around you could even eat her.-  
Sansa rolled her eyes. _Why, thank you Rickon.  
_Tommen looked hurt:-I'm not going to eat my pet!-  
Rickon caressed his belly:- Yum, goat roast...-  
-Shut up! Would you ever eat Shaggy?-  
-Shaggy is not a pet.- Rickon replied with superiority.  
-Yes, he is!-

-Stop, both of you.- Sansa interrupted them -No one is going to eat anyone's pet.-  
-I already hate Casterly Rock.- announced Tommen, and stormed off.  
Sansa massaged her temples. She didn't have the strength to deal with this crisis right now.

-Sansa?- Rickon asked hesitantly–are you upset with me?-  
She looked up at him:-Of course not. Why should I be?-  
Rickon shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other:-Because of what I said to Tommen and because I made fun of you in front of Tyrion.-  
His blue eyes were wide open; he looked so much like Bran, when she had last seen him, and like Robb at his age.  
She sighed:-That's fine, Rickon. It doesn't matter anymore.-  
He smiled, relieved.  
-I made something for you.- he announced.  
She noticed that he was holding a stack of parchments under his back.  
-Oh really, what is it?-  
-A drawing. Something that might help you.-  
He climbed on the chair to sit on her lap and unfolded the parchments on the desk.

Rickon still ha troubles reading and writing, but he loved to draw.  
On the first page, there was a red-headed crying figure with a long dress (Sansa recognized herself) and next to her there was a big, brutal-looking character in a coat of armour.  
-I imagined you couldn't be so sad because of me.- he explained, pointing at the crying girl in his drawing –So I figured out you must be troubled by something else. You must have an enemy. – he indicated the knight. –When I was in Skagos, an old wise man told me what I should do when I have an enemy. Something that even the First Men used to do.-  
She tucked a wisp of hair behind his ear:- What did he tell you?- she asked, genuinely interested.  
She was ready to hear a legend or a moral tale. She had always liked songs and stories, and she never heard of Skagosi folklore.  
-It's about magic.- he told her seriously. –Are you sure you're ready for it?-  
Aww, he was so cute, she thought.  
-Aye, I'm ready.- she said in a solemn tone.

- I'll show you then.- Rickon turned the page, and on the next parchment the red-headed girl was sticking something through the chest of the knight.  
-This is you killing your enemy.- he said.  
-Oh.- exclaimed Sansa, a little taken aback –That's a bit… well… extreme. But maybe the old man told you about killing the fear of your enemy…-  
-No, no- Rickon interrupted her –You actually kill him. Or her. You have to pierce their heart with a sword… or an arrow, or whatever you want.-

He turned the page, where the knight was lying on the ground, and the girl was holding something round in her arms.  
-This is you with the head of your enemy.-  
-His head?!- Sansa gasped, aghast.  
-Aye, you remove his head so he won't come back to hunt you. And you carve out his eyes, so he won't see you.- he explained, matter-of-factly.  
She noticed, horrified, that the girl in the drawing was holding two smaller balls in her hands.  
-But Rickon… this is barbaric…- she managed to say. No words could describe her horror.

Rickon turned the page again, and this time there was a thick scarlet line on the chest of the knight, and the girl was holding something red in her hands. For more realism, her dress, the knight's body and the ground were splattered in crimson stains.  
-Oh, look- Rickon announced happily -Here you're eating his heart.-  
-I think that's enough.- she decided, setting the parchment aside.  
-No, wait- he insisted, turning the pages –I still haven't got to the part where you feast on his liver… and then when you open his head and use it as a cup….-  
Sansa took the parchment from his hands and out it face down on the table, repressing a shudder.

-I was just trying to help.- Rickon murmured, disappointed by her reaction –I'm just sorry that you are sad all the time.-  
She instantly felt guilty.  
-I know. That was very… very….- frightening? Horrific? Unsettling? Brutal?-…_thoughtful_ of you. Thank you.-  
-Did it make you feel better?- he asked with hopeful eyes.  
-Er…- _"If being merely sick is better than lovesick…."_ –It surely gave me much to think about.- she said in the end.  
Rickon hugged her:- I love you, big sister.- he said.  
She held him back, burying her face in his auburn curls: -I love you too, baby brother.-

She dreamed again about Tyrion one night.  
They were travelling in the litter to Joffrey's wedding again.  
Tyrion was reclined on one elbow and looked at her as he used to do back then.  
-I had been thinking that when the roads are safe again, we might journey to Casterly Rock.- he said.- It would please me to show you the Golden Gallery and the Lion's Mouth, and the Hall of Heroes where Jaime and I played as boys. You can hear thunder from below where the sea comes in…-  
She looked up at him:-That's an excellent idea. I'd love to see the places where you grew up.-  
He smiled and leaned over to kiss her. She smiled in his kiss and caressed his cheek.  
-I love you, my lady wife.- he whispered.

Sansa woke up.  
Her bed felt very big and empty. She looked at Tyrion's shape in the other bed.  
He looked very much like a child from this distance, but she knew that if she looked closer she could see that he was a grown man, and a wonderful man at that.  
Maybe it was because of how tired she was, or because she was still shaken from the dream, but she felt so miserable. She couldn't hold everything back anymore and started sobbing, as quietly as she could, trying to choke back the tears.

Then she hears Tyrion's voice: -Sansa...?-  
_Does he never sleep?_ she asked herself in frustration.  
She tried to steady her voice and say something to send him back to bed, but only a confused blubber came out.  
-What's going on? Are you crying?- he asked.  
-N-no... I'm well...- she sniffed.  
-You are not.- he objected, standing up and approaching her bed.

She tried to clean up the tears on her face before he reacher her, but it was a hopeless attempt.  
He climbed onto the bed and sat next to her, observing her face with a worried look.  
-Sansa, what happened?-  
She opened her mouth to say something to excuse herself, but instead she burst into an incontrollable sobbing.

Tyrion looked stunned. He opened and closed his mouth, apparently not knowing what to say, moved uncertainly towards her, raised a hand in her direction.  
_Just give me this damn hug, Tyrion!  
_In the end, he tentatively patted her shoulder.  
_He's just as insecure as I am_, she thought.  
So she leaned towards him and put her arms around his waist, resting her head on his shoulder.

He finally returned the embrace.  
He could have been hugging the Iron Throne, she thought, for how stiffly and gingerly he was holding her.  
-There, there- he said, still sounding very confused- Calm down.-  
Despite the situation, it felt so good to hold him, she thought. Her brow was pillowed against the delicate skin of his neck. She could feel his fast heartbeat. And his scent, oh, his scent...  
-Can I do anything to make you feel better?- he asked.  
-Yes, you can.-  
-What?-

She didn't think it through. The temptation was too strong. She leaned her head back and pressed his lips against the point where his neck joined his shoulder. Then she moved towards his ear, placing small kisses on the way, parting her lips and gently sucking his skin...  
-What... what are you doing?- he asked, dismayed.  
There was no need to answer, she thought. She kept kissing him, on his jawline, then on his cheek...  
-Sansa, no.- he said, wriggling gently but firmly out -No... please, stop.-

She felt numb for a moment, and then she realised what a mistake she had done.  
She was so ashamed. She wanted to go away from him, to hide, to get away from his stare.  
Suddenly, Wylla's idea of hitting him on the head didn't sound that bad. Even if it didn't serve her purpose, knocking him unconscious seemed a good way to escape the embarrassment.

She tried to get up from the bed and run away, but Tyrion held her by her wrists.  
-No... don't.- he urged her, trying to catch her eye- Why?- he asked her. He looked genuinely stunned.  
Sansa hid her face in her hands. It was too awkward.  
-Were you trying to...bed me?- he hesitantly asked.  
_Oh gentle Mother, help me.  
_She feebly nodded.  
Tyrion sighed and run a hand through his hair, apparently lost for words.  
-Are you with child?- he asked after a while.  
She lifted her eyes:-How could I possibly be?- she replied, sincerely puzzled.  
Didn't he know how it worked...?  
He closed his fingers into a fist, a gesture that she had learned to read as frustration:-If you are, I'd prefer you told me. There's no need to... try to cover it up.-  
It took her a moment to understand what he was suggesting.  
-What..?- she gasped -Of course not!- she exclaimed indignant. -How dare you? You're the one who has a lover, not I!-  
It was his turn to look at her uncomprehending:-Me?-  
-Yes!- she yelled -You... and the Queen!-

He simply stared at her for a moment, then, unexpectedly burst out laughing.  
-Daenerys? Seven hells, you don't really believe what you're saying, do you?-  
Sansa was confused:-But you are always together...- she insisted.  
-Why yes, we are supposed to be, I'm her Hand.-  
-She's the most beautiful woman in the world!-  
Tyron sighed:-Aye, and I'm the ugliest man. Believe me Sansa, I'm really not her type. And she's not mine, for all that matters.-  
-But you have other women!- she accused him- I saw you! Here, in this very room, with that...- she tried to recall her name- Dancy Waters!-  
-Dancy?- he rubbed the scar where his nose used to be -Gods be good, it was one single time...-  
She blinked:-So you're not lovers?-  
-Obviously not. And Dancy is a whore, I paid her for... doing what she did.-  
It still sounded so wrong.  
-Why did you go to her?-  
He rolled his eyes:-Because I was tired to have only my hand as a lover! Is that what you want to hear? It was more than two years since I've been with a woman. And for what it's worth I didn't go to her, she found me here. I met her years ago, in a brothel where I used to go to see... someone else. She said that last time I was Hand refusing her services brought me bad luck, and I shouldn't do the same mistake twice.- he sighed -I didn't expect you to care, in truth.-  
-I didn't care.- she muttered.

-What is it then?- He locked his eyebrows in a line -Is it about the plot? Does this have anything to do with the plot to kill the Queen?-  
-There's no plot to kill the Queen!- Sansa exclaimed, exasperated.  
-What do you mean there's no plot?- Tyrion asked, shocked -You told me so yourself!-  
She felt her cheek reddening.  
-Oh, that. Yes. Well. Maybe it was a... misunderstanding.- she explained, averting his eyes.  
-But...- he sounded confused -I spent the last weeks investigating... I put double guards at every door...Grey Worm hasn't slept in five days!-  
Sansa covered her mouth with her hands:-Oh no! Poor Grey Worm!-  
-On the other hand, this explains why I didn't find absolutely anything.- Tyrion said, more to himself than to Sansa -I thought it was the most cunning and mysterious plan I've ever faced...-

She didn't know what to say.  
-Sansa, I don't understand. Is it a baby that you want?- he asked her, not unkindly, after a moment -Is this the reason? Do you want to be a mother?-  
-No.- she replied -I mean, yes... eventually. But this is not the reason why I was kissing you.-  
-And what is it, then?-  
His mismatched eyes were fixed into hers and it took all her courage to say:- Because I want you- she said defiantly.  
Tyrion widened his eyes in surprise, but said nothing. The room was so silent that she could hear his faint breath whistling through the scar of his nose.

-I want you- she repeated, gaining more and more courage at every word- I think about you all the time. I think about kissing you and doing... things to you.-  
He blinked and stared at her incredulous:-To me?-  
-Don't act so surprised. I know you knew. How could you not understand?-  
-Oh yes, it was so clear!- Tyrion snorted -You pretty much ignore me for two years, then act all nervous and weird for a couple of weeks, then for some unfathomable reason you give me a back rub and therafter you proceed to avoid me as if you loathed the very sight of me. What in the seven hells was I supposed to understand from that?-  
Sansa shrugged uncomfortably:-You make me sound so stupid if you sum it up like that.-  
Thinking back, maybe her strategy wasn't so foolproof after all.

-Are you really not in love with the Queen?- she asked.  
-By all means, no!- he exclaimed.  
-But she's beautiful and.. she's the Queen!-  
Tyrion shrugged:-She's so solemn though. She takes herself too seriously.- he imitated an austere tone- I, Daenerys Stormborn, First of Her Name, Queen of Meereen, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, The Unburnt, Mother of Dragons command you to go in the bedchamber and wait for me with your breeches down. - he grimaced -I don't think I'd like that.-  
Despite the situation, Sansa couldn't help let out a chortle.  
She sniffed up:-I thought you were disgusted with me.-  
-I thought _you_ were disgusted with me!-  
-Oh please, I could never be disgusted with you.-  
Tyrion merely raised his eyebrows.  
-Fine, maybe... maybe I used to be.- she admitted -But you can't still blame me for something I said when I was thirteen!-  
-I don't blame you... I'm just trying to understand. -he paused to gather his thoughts for a moment.

-When you came back two years ago I thought, well, hoped more like...- he sighed, uneasy again.  
_Oh, Tyrion!  
_-But soon it was evident that affection, let alone love, in our marriage was the last thing on your mind. I soon learned that it's no bloody good to wish for something you can't have. I was used since a very young age to make the most of what I had.- he took her hand- You didn't love me, but you were a wonderful wife under so many other aspects. You are a splendid ally, I couldn't wish for a better Warden in the North. I always tell the Queen about how great you are.-  
So this explained Daenerys's continuous praise. She never thought Tyrion could have anything to do with it.  
-I sometimes thought that perhaps there could come a time when we would be more than just allies, or friends, but it was so obvious that your feelings for me hadn't change since our wedding night that, as time went by, I accepted the idea that that was not to be.-  
-I've always assumed that you were fine with our arrangement.- she murmured defensively.  
-I am!- Tyrion assured -I really am. It's so much more than we could hope for when we married, seven years ago. _That_ was an agony. At least I knew you didn't hate me. And there are other ways to obtain what you could't give me. A heir.-  
Her eyes widened. _Tyrion has a heir? When... who?  
_-I'm arranging with the Queen the officialness of Tommen's adoption. He will become my heir and change his name into Lannister. It's only fair after all, nobody ever was more of a Lannister than him and his siblings. He doesn't seem to be especially enthusiast of becoming Warden of the West, but he might change his mind. And maybe it's for the better. -his shrug was meant to be casual, but it looked more bitter- Perhaps I wasn't meant to have children of my own.-

The more Tyrion spoke, the more Sansa felt forlorn.  
_I am really like the Iron Throne_, she thought. _I never meant to_, _but I cut him_.  
-We can still have children- she protested -we can still change everything.-  
Tyrion averted her eyes. That was not the reaction she was hoping for.  
-Maybe I don't want to change it.- he said.

His words sank in like knives.  
-Why?-. Her own voice sounded very small.  
He smiled apologetically:-It's beautiful that you want to give it a try. It really is. But how can we know that it will work out well? How can I know that we won't end up hating each other? How can I be sure that you won't grow out of this... attraction, that you seem to feel now? And what would be left then?-

_I will never hurt you,_ she wanted to say. _I love you.  
_But she knew how empty and childish her words sounded. How many people claimed to have loved him, and then betrayed him? She remembered that Tyrion used to speak of his brother Jaime with affection, and now he never even mentioned his name.  
-I can't promise you that everything will turn out well- she said at last -Nobody can promise that. We are the children of summer, and the next winter might be coming sooner than we think. But Tyrion- she put her hand on his scarred cheek – We've been through so much and we are still alive and still together. It's a miracle. We still have a chance to be happy. It would be a crime to waste it out of fear or mistrust.-  
Tyrion was staring at her with big round eyes, and she didn't know if he wanted to believe her or if he was trying to think of a way to rebuff her.  
-You are the man who saved King's Landing and led a sortie himself. You faced trials and execution, and the gods know what else you escaped in Essos. You rode a dragon, and now you're waging a war against an army of living corpses.- she smiled uncertainly- Are you really telling me that you're afraid of me?-  
She held her breath, waiting for his answer.

He gave a small chuckle:- You can be quite fearful my lady.-.  
There was something different in his eyes, a hint of playfulness that she could have sworn wasn't there just a second before, and she knew, just _knew,_ that there was hope.  
She still had her hand on his cheek, and moved her thumb over the lines of his face, the white scars and the little wrinkles at the corner of his mouth. She leaned closer to him, resting her brow against his.  
-Tyrion, please- she whispered, kissing lightly his cheek and the corner of his lips -My husband... my good, brave husband...-  
She heard him exhale, then his hands went up to her face and he looked her in the eye.  
-Oh, what the hell- he exclaimed, and finally pressed his lips against hers.

For a split second she was so surprised that she could scarcely react.  
She couldn't even think coherently. _He's kissing me, he's really kissing me_.  
Then she closed her eyes and started to return the kiss. His lips were soft and his touch was delicate, but she wanted more. She teased his lower lip, sucking on it and gently biting it. She felt Tyrion smiling into the kiss then his warm tongue darting over her lips, so she opened her mouth to let it in.

His touch became more intense. When his warm soft tongue met hers, she let out a moan.  
She tangled her fingers in the hair on the back of his head, feeling his stubble scraping against her chin.  
His breath was hot and tasted like wine.  
_I'm breathing the air from his lungs_, she thought.  
His scent was everywhere and she finally breathed avidly in it.  
_He's mine!_

She couldn't get enough. Every touch of his tongue left her longing for more.  
There was a tingling sensation between her legs that she had never felt so strongly.  
-It feels so good to kiss you.- she whispered.  
He look surprised and smiled: not a sarcastic, lopsided grin, as he always did.  
No, she could see true, spontaneous happiness in this smile.  
It transformed his whole face, making it more innocent, almost childish, and beautiful.  
She pulled him closer and kissed him again.  
_I need him to touch me._

Sansa let herself fall on the pillow, pulling Tyrion with her.  
His whole weight was over her.  
Sansa remembered that the Hound was very heavy and she had felt like she almost couldn't move under his embrace. Tyrion felt much lighter in comparison.  
She liked it; she felt like she was more in control.  
Also, she could feel the pressure of his manhood against her hip, making that tingling sensation transform into an uncontrollable urge.  
She spread her legs, and Tyrion found himself between them. When his hardness pressed against her, he groaned in their kiss.  
His mouth left hers and started to suck at the skin of her neck, sending shivers at the base of her spine. He moved the shoulder of her nightgown, nibbling at the skin between her shoulder and her chest.

She realised she wanted, no, _needed_ to feel his skin against hers, without the barrier of the clothes between them.  
Sansa slid her hands under the hem of his tunic and pulled it over his head, then cast it aside.  
Finally she felt his chest under her palms: she took a moment to appreciate the feeling of his skin before placing a trail of kisses from his throat to his collarbone to the scar between his arm and his shoulder, then buried her nose in his chest hair. His smell was intoxicating, richer there than in his hair, but always clean and so... mouthwatering.

When she looked up at him, he was staring at her in marvel.  
He held her face in his hands, and for a moment looked into her eyes as if he wanted to say something; in the end, he kissed her instead, deeply, passionately, finally without reserve.  
His hands went to the straps of her nightgown again, sliding underneath them and caressing the skin of her shoulders.  
-Would it be acceptable if I set you free from this worthless garment?- he teased her. His voice sounded faintly amused, and breathless.  
She pretended to think about it:-You don't like it?-  
-I very much prefer the other one, my lady. You know, the one with the lace here- he kissed her shoulder -here- his mouth moved on the neckline- and here.- his lips teased the top of her breasts.  
-I thought you didn't even notice it.-  
He grinned:-Of course I noticed it.-.  
He unfastened the laces on the neckline of her shift and let one of the straps fall on her arm.  
-I thought you didn't even look at me.- she said.  
Tyrion shrugged:-I tried not to.-  
-And did you manage?-  
-Er... not all the time.-  
She couldn't hold back a smile. So he wasn't so indifferent to her, after all.

But something still didn't make quite sense.  
-Why did you turn me down then?- she asked.  
Tyrion looked confused:- Turn you down?-  
-When you were in the bathtub.- It still mortified her to think about it.-I thought you didn't like my touch.-  
Tyrion grinned:-Oh, I sure liked it. All my parts liked it. One in particular was showing excessive enthusiasm...- he placed another kiss on her shoulder- That's why I asked you to stop.-  
-What do you...- then it dawned on her -Oh!-  
It suddenly felt like all the embarrassment of the past weeks had evaporated.

Also the other strap was fallen, and Tyrion gently pulled the top of the shift down, exposing her skin down to her waist.  
-Seven save me- he said, in awe -These changed so much since the last time I saw them.-  
Sansa felt suddenly shy: she always thought that ladies should have small breasts that made even a gown with a plunging neckline appear elegant and discreet.  
She was always self-conscious of her generous bosom that had flowered in the last years.  
She kissed him again, hoping to divert his attention, but to no avail.  
-Excuse me, Sansa- he said seriously when they broke the kiss -I feel your exquisite teats and I should be properly acquainted.-  
She couldn't help letting out a chuckle, and covered her flushed face with her hands.

He cupped one of them and caressed its skin slowly with his thumb. He lowered his mouth onto it and he brushed her nipple with his lips, so lightly it could have been a breeze blow. She realised she was holding her breath with anticipation. His mouth teased her again, tickling her, his tongue flickering idly on her nipple. Then he moved to the other one, always keeping his touch soft and delicate. She couldn't resist anymore, and, placing a hand on the back of his head, pressed him harder on her chest. Finally she felt his lips sucking on one of her nipples as his finger pinched lightly the other, and she let out a moan.

Tyrion moved his mouth over her belly, until he found the rest of the nightgown. She lifted her hips to help him slip it out.  
When she was naked before him, he let his eyes travel on her body, as if he wanted to fix every little detail in his memory.  
She could see that his eyes were full of hunger and desire, and his arousal clearly showed in the bulge of his breeches.

-You are so lovely.- he exhaled at last. All the irony had disappeared from his voice, leaving only amazement- So lovely...-  
His mouth touched her knee, then the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.  
The urgent sensation between her legs had become unbearable.  
She leaned down to take his face in her hands and pulled him up to kiss her.  
Tyrion looked slightly taken aback, but then responded eagerly.

Finally she felt his warm skin against her, arms, shoulders, chest, stomach.  
He was still wearing his breeches, so she fumbled at their laces, then rolled over to be on top of him and slipped them out.  
Sansa knew that Tyrion's legs were not supposed to be beautiful: they were bowed and they were the source of most of his husbands's aches. But in that moment she could only see how fair his skin was, and how soft the hair that covered them looked.  
She placed a kiss on his belly, right above the thicket of golden hair from which his manhood poked up.

His scent was more intense than ever there, less sweet than in his hair, more feral, even more inviting.  
She felt the acute desire to take him into her mouth, to drink fully in his smell and in his taste, and to give him pleasure until he would spend his hot seed... she was sure that also his manhood would feel as good as the rest of him.  
But a sudden thought stopped her. _What if he thinks I'm too brazen?_

She even wasn't a maiden; she was fairly sure that Tyrion had figured that out, and he didn't seem to be particularly bothered by the fact, but what if that scandalised him?  
She didn't have much time to think it through: the moment passed, and Tyrion was again on top of her, his lips brushing the skin between her neck and her ear.  
His hand slid between her thighs, and his fingers found the spot where her anticipation was pulsing, making her moan.

-Show me how you do it.- he whispered in her ear.  
-What?-  
-How you touch yourself.-  
She felt her cheeks burn. Was it befitting of a lady to confess having given herself pleasure like beardless boys did?  
-I...I've never done that.- she lied.  
Tyrion only grinned against her:-Please, Sansa...-he insisted- I want to please you.-  
His voice was low and warm, and caused her another stirring inside her.  
He was her husband, after all... there was no need to be demure with him.  
Hesitantly she slipped her hand below his, and caressed herself as she was used to do. Soon his fingers replaced hers.  
-Like this?- he asked.  
-A bit harder...yes...-

His touch felt like the seven heavens... every pressure of his hand sent a wave of heat and pleasure in her body. Her breath become heavy. After a while, she was so wet that his fingers were sliding on her flesh. He slid a finger inside her, causing her a groan of delight.  
He kept looking at her, as if he was spellbound by seeing her enjoyment.  
She couldn't wait anymore: she needed to feel him inside her.  
-Tyrion- she urged him- please...-

Tyrion changed slightly his position, and finally she felt his manhood pushing against her wet flesh.  
He didn't say anything, but his eyes were devouring her.  
She let out a sigh when his tip entered her. Then he pushed himself inside her, so excruciatingly slowly that she could feel every single inch of his hardness entering her, and let out a heavy breath when they finally were fully joined.t was so good, she thought: his warmth, his touch and finally the sensation of fullness, of completeness of having him inside her.

She looked up at his face, which was flushed and ecstatic.  
-We are truly married now.- he said, in awe.  
-Yes.- she laughed, thinking how absurd it was to have waited so long -I'm so happy...-  
Tyrion smiled and leaned down to kiss her, and while their tongues danced together, he started to move inside her.

_This is the reason_, she thought, absurdly, for a moment. _This is why everyone makes a big deal out of sex.  
_Then she lost all coherent thoughts, because nothing mattered anymore except him, his touch, his thrusts, and the bliss that came from them.  
She let her hands travel on his back, and clutched his butt, pulling him closer and deeper.

Tyrion put his hand on her thigh, and lifted her leg until her knee was close to his shoulder, then did the same for her other leg.  
-Oh!-  
With this new angle, she felt his manhood penetrating deeper and brushing against some spot inside her that made her want to moan.  
His strokes became harder, more urgent.

She looked at his face, and saw the same delight that she was feeling. The thought that he was finally abandoning himself, without holding back, and was ready to lose himself inside her, made an unbearable feeling surge inside her, and she realised she was close to her release.  
For a split second it was so good that its intensity scared her.  
-Yes- Tyrion urged her breathlessly -Yes.-  
She clung to him and pulled him into a deep kiss, finally letting the feeling get hold of her. She moaned inside her kiss, while the stabs of pleasure crept through her body, shaking her, making her shudder and tremble.  
When it was over, still every of his thrusts sent delightful little spasms through her.

She looked into his mismatched eyes, and caressed his face, his cheek, his scar, wiped the sweat off his temple.  
He was so good, so handsome, so generous, even in his lovemaking.  
_He's mine,_ she thought. _I could hurt him, but I can also make him happy.  
_And she realised she wanted nothing more than making him happy.  
-I love you, Tyrion.- she said.  
He just looked at her for a moment; then his eyes tightened in a pained expression, his movements became irregular and erratic, and she realised that he had reached the peak of his pleasure and he was spending himself inside her.

When it was finished, he let himself fall over her, exhausted.  
She listened to the sound of his breath, and stroked his sweaty hair on the back of his head.  
Even now, it was good to feel him inside her.

After a while, he lifted himself on his elbows and looked at her in the eyes.  
-Hi.- he grinned.  
-Hi you.-.  
They both giggled, then kissed on the lips.  
There was so much to say, but they had all the time to do it. For now, it was enough to savour the moment.

They rolled over, and Sansa rested her head on his chest.  
His skin was sweaty, but even his sweat smelled good, clean and finally familiar.  
-How do you feel?- he asked her.  
She smiled:-I've never felt better. And you?-  
Tyrion started to stroke her hair:-I feel like I'm in a dream.- he said -I still can't believe I've managed to bed my wife.-  
She pulled a face.  
He laughed and placed a kiss on the tip of her nose:-I'm only jesting, my lady.-

She leaned against him again:-As a matter of fact, I dreamed about you for quite a while.-  
-About me?-. He still sounded baffled.  
-Don't act so surprised every time I tell you!-  
-No, it's just... why didn't you simply tell me?-  
Sansa shrugged:-I was told that men like to feel like hunters. Aren't you supposed to be a lion? Don't lion hunt in the forest... or wherever they live?-  
Tyrion chuckled again and kissed her on the brow:-Lions don't hunt, my love. They lie in the sun while the lioness make all the hard work.-  
She sighed:-This explains a great deal.- she caressed his shoulder:-Have you ever dreamt about me? As in...waking dreams?-  
-Er...yes, sometimes.-  
-What did you dream?- she asked.  
He sounded almost shy:-After you rubbed my back in the bath tub, I dreamt that you took your wet tunic off, and made love to me...atop me.-

She never thought that it was possible to make love staying on top of a man, but the notion was interesting.  
-In how many position is it possible to...er, join?-  
Tyrion laughed:-Oh, I don't know... there are hundreds of possible variations.-  
-Will you tell me some?-  
-I think I'd rather show you.-

He kissed her again, long and deep, and she realised that he was hard again.  
-Now, about those things that you wanted to do to me...- he teased her playfully -will you tell me what they were?-  
She blushed:-No.-  
-But I'd really love to know.- he insisted.  
She shifted position, placing herself between his legs, and placed a kiss on his belly.

-I think I'd rather show you.-

THE END


End file.
